Aftershocks
by N'kala
Summary: In the wake of a disaster, Charlie is the only thing that stands between life and death for his older brother.
1. Chapter One

Title: Aftershocks A  
uthor: N'kala99  
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em.  
Summary: In the wake of disaster, Charlie is the only thing that stands between life and death for his older brother.  
Author's Notes: Thanks so much for the wonderful reviews! They've kept me going on my latest projects. I'm currently outlining a possible sequel to 'Time Bomb', but in the meantime, this little thing popped into my head. Enjoy! 

Aftershocks

Chapter One

Bands of soft, glowing light filtered through the tall windows of the living room, warming each spot they touched. Birds chirped merrily nearby, celebrating the dawn of such a beautiful day. Alan Eppes settled comfortably in his favorite chair in the living room with a sigh and shook out his newspaper.

The peacefulness that had descended upon the Eppes home was suddenly broken by the sound of a slight rumble, which grew louder with each passing second. The floor began to tremble, the objects sitting on shelves wobbling precariously in their spots. Alan set his newspaper aside and stood, pausing for the briefest of moments to gauge the seriousness of the quake.

A picture frame slipped off of the wall, falling to the floor with a thud. More objects jumped off of their shelves, but thankfully all landed on the carpet without breaking. After several more moments, the shaking stopped.

Alan sighed with relief. It hadn't been too bad this time. Not much more than a five on the Richter scale, he'd wager. Stopping only to pick up the frame from the ground and set it on the table, Alan headed for the stairs.

Silence met him as he climbed the staircase and headed for his youngest son's room. Charlie had been working late the last few days on a major project for his friend Larry and had not gotten much sleep. Alan knew that he would be sleeping in this morning, but with the quake, he wanted to check on Charlie and make sure he was all right.

Gently pushing the door to Charlie's room open, Alan slipped inside and went to Charlie's side. Charlie lay sprawled beneath tangled bed sheets, still asleep. Several piles of books had slid to the ground during the quake, but in the otherwise chaotic environment, Alan would never have noticed had he not been in the room the day before. Smiling softly, Alan laid a gentle hand on Charlie's head, sweeping his unruly locks away from his eyes.

Charlie stirred at the touch, opening his eyes to bare slits. His brow creased slightly. "Dad?" he mumbled tiredly. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, son," Alan whispered. "Just checking up on you. Go back to sleep."

Charlie nodded faintly and closed his eyes. Within moments, he had succumbed to slumber once again.

Satisfied that Charlie was all right, Alan turned and headed back out the door. Closing it firmly behind him, he retreated back to the living room to straighten out the mess that the quake had left behind.

* * *

"Hello?"

"Donnie! In here."

Don followed Alan's voice through the house and into the kitchen. He found his father standing with a broom in his hands, sweeping up what looked like glass.

"Hey, Dad, what happened here?" Don asked.

Alan shook his head. "Some glasses got knocked over this morning, and I didn't know it until just now when I stepped on a piece."

"You okay?" Don asked, concerned.

Alan stooped down to sweep the shards into the dustpan. "Yeah, fine. I was wearing my shoes at the time, luckily. So how's it going? I haven't seen you in awhile."

"It's going pretty good," Don replied. "We just wrapped up our latest case last night. I'm thinking about taking some time off to relax."

Alan dumped the glass into the trash, his eyes studying his eldest son's form more closely. "Are you _my_ son?"

Don chuckled appreciatively. "Hey, I can take a day off if I want to. Listen, is Charlie around? He's been hounding me the last couple of days about some equation or something that he wanted me to see. I figured I'd stop by and see it."

Alan put the broom and dustpan away, a thoughtful frown creasing his face. "I didn't know that he was working on anything for you."

"He wasn't," Don assured him. "I'm not exactly sure what he's talking about. You know Charlie. Always ten steps ahead of everyone else."

Alan smiled at that. "Well, he's at his office right now. He said he had some last minute research he needed to take care of, and that might be it. I know he finished his project yesterday."

"All right, I'll go track him down there," Don replied. "See you later, Dad."

"Okay," Alan called to his retreating back. "You coming by for dinner?"

"Wouldn't miss it!"


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two 

The bright sun beat down on Don as he made his way across the campus, smiling and nodding at several people as he went. His suit jacket had been abandoned in his car, leaving him to roll up his sleeves in a more casual and comfortable look. A gentle breeze brushed against the brilliant green leaves, their rustling filling the air. The overall atmosphere of the small campus was so peaceful that it sent a wave of calm washing over Don as he headed up the steps and into the math building.

Charlie's office door stood open, welcoming any potential visitors. Don paused on the threshold, sharp brown eyes sweeping through the room and landing almost immediately on the slight figure of his little brother.

A pair of earphones covered Charlie's ears as he scribbled furiously on his chalkboard. Every once in a great while, he would turn and consult one of his many notebooks on his desk before turning back to the board. Rather than interrupt, Don leaned against the doorframe and took the opportunity to simply observe the young genius.

The familiar aura of energy that usually surrounded his brother was blazing in full force as Charlie sank into the flow of numbers. It seemed as though the chalk in his fingers was merely an extension of his incredible mind as it spilled symbol after symbol onto the cool black surface of the board. Don marveled that his hands were able to keep up with him, though he suspected it was just barely.

Time certainly had a way of changing a person's perspective. After only a few months with working on cases with Charlie, Don had begun to develop more of an appreciation for his brother and his abilities. They had seemed such an onus to Don while the two had been growing up. They had been a constant source of needling and ridiculing, though Don now realized that had been the case for Charlie as much as him. But after the years had slipped away, and Don was able to grow into his own with his own capabilities, he was finally beginning to appreciate Charlie for what he could do.

That wasn't to say that he didn't occasionally irritate Don. Far from it. He knew that Charlie's perception of the world was distorted from his relatively sheltered childhood, and that there were still many things they would never see eye to eye on, but after spending the last few months together, they were starting to move past that.

Don straightened and headed deeper into the room. The sunlight spilling into the office through the window gave the room a soft yellow glow, with brilliant drops of rainbows reflected off of the sun catcher nearby. The overall setting set Don into a mode of mischief as he crept closer to his oblivious younger brother.

Charlie had just turned back to his board and was tapping with his chalk, lost deep in thought, when Don suddenly seized him around the shoulders and rubbed his knuckles furiously in Charlie's scalp. Charlie let out a startled cry and dropped his chalk, trying to free himself. The headphones were knocked off of his head as he pushed his laughing older brother away and stared at him, wide-eyed with surprise.

"Don!" he exclaimed.

Don shook his head, still chuckling. "Hey, Buddy. What's up?"

Charlie tried to give him an annoyed look, but the sparkle in his eyes gave him away. "Can't you knock like normal people?"

Don rolled his eyes. Charlie, busy retrieving his chalk and headphones, missed the look. "First of all, you never would have heard me. With or without the music. Second of all, I'm not normal people."

Charlie smirked, but didn't take the bait. "I assume you have some other purpose for being here, other than giving me a hard time?"

Don shrugged. "That depends on you. What's all this you've been telling me about an equation? I haven't given you anything to work on."

Charlie's eyes lit up at the mention of the equation, and he quickly began to sift through the piles of notebooks, files, and papers on his desk. "No, it's something else. Something someone mentioned in passing. I don't remember who said it, but it was something to the effect of 'wouldn't it be nice to be able to predict aberrant behavior before the crime occurs'. That got me thinking."

Don snorted. "What doesn't?"

Charlie ignored him. He finally found the notebook he was searching for and thrust it into Don's hands. "It's still a work in progress, and I've been using some more well-known criminals and their profiles, but I think I may have the very basic, rudimentary numbers here."

Don flipped through the notebook, but all he saw was a sea of numbers, letters, and symbols. For all his genius, Charlie still behaved in a naïve manner. He always assumed that everyone else understood the so-called beauty of his numbers, and frequently had to be reeled back to reality. A small part of Don's mind wondered if Charlie even knew it.

Realizing that Charlie hadn't stopped talking, Don tuned back in. He watched Charlie explain the equations on the board that he had been working on in part amazement and part impatience. As Charlie sank deeper into an explanation that Don was certain only another mathematician could understand, he decided it was time to pull Charlie back.

"Okay, okay, hang on," he said, cutting Charlie off in mid-flow. "So you're telling me, basically, that based on a number of given variables, you can design an equation to predict who the next psychopaths might be?"

Charlie fidgeted nervously by his blackboard, his hands wringing in front of him. "I-I think so. It's still very early to tell. I mean, something of this magnitude won't be ready for even a test for a few months, but I wanted to run the numbers by you, to see what you think."

Don stared at his brother, noting the anxious anticipation in the brown depths. It took Don a moment, but he realized that Charlie was waiting for a sign of approval from him. He felt a flush of warmth inside at the realization, and he smiled.

"I don't know about the numbers, but I'm impressed," he finally said. "Do you realize the implications of what you're saying? This could revolutionize our entire judicial system! This could change the way we view crimes!"

Charlie ducked his head bashfully, grinning with pleasure at his big brother's tone. "I-I don't even know if it's going to work. I mean, there's a lot of variables to consider, and a lot of research involved . . ."

"Yeah, well, if anyone can do it, you can," Don said, flipping through the book again. "What information have you been using?"

Charlie gave a slight start and started stacking books and files on his desk. "Old cases that are public records that I pulled from the internet, some stuff on criminal profiling published by retired FBI behaviorists, some sociology resources from a friend of mine . . ." He trailed off, rustling through papers once more. "I had some more books here . . . in fact, I was looking for them earlier. I'm going to need them for the next series of numbers I want to run."

Don shrugged, dropping Charlie's notebook on the stack of books. "I'm sure they're around here somewhere. To tell you the truth, I'm amazed you can find _anything_ in here."

Charlie gave him an exasperated look and walked by him, heading for the door. "I think I left some stuff in the storage room downstairs. I'll be right back."

Instead of waiting, Don turned and followed after Charlie. "Hey, I've got nowhere to be right now."

"Lucky me."

Don's only answer was an appreciative chuckle.

The door to the basement was just down the hall from Charlie's office. Flicking on the light, Charlie began to descend the steps at a quick pace. Don was right on his heels.

Charlie led Don down the dimly lit corridor, past several closed doors, until coming to a stop at the other end. He pushed the last door on the right open, switched on another light, and moved inside.

The room was easily the size of Charlie's office and lined with bookshelves. It looked like some sort of second library, with countless textbooks stacked tightly on every available surface. Quite a few books were stacked like towers on the floor, with no other place for them. As Charlie moved unerringly through the rows of shelves, Don took a closer look at some of the titles.

"Advanced Quantum Theory," he read out loud. "Does anybody actually _take_ this?"

"I did," Charlie's voice echoed back from the other side of the room.

Don rolled his eyes. "Of course," he muttered.

Suddenly, the floor began to rumble beneath his feet. The shelves wobbled dangerously, threatening to tip over. Don instinctively reached out and grabbed one to steady it as much as himself, hesitating to see if the rumble would fade as it had that morning. If anything, the trembling grew steadily stronger.

"Charlie!" Don bellowed, glancing in the direction his brother had gone and back to the door. "We have to get out of here!"

"Don!" A loud crash echoed throughout the room, followed by a startled cry of pain. Don jumped into action, running around the bookshelves in the direction of the crash.

One of the bookshelves had toppled, crashing into Charlie as he had tried to make his way back to Don. The books that had been packed so tight on the shelves were now scattered all over the floor. Charlie was nowhere to be seen. Around them, the trembling increased.

"Charlie!" Don waded through the books, shoving as many as possible away from the toppled case. Spying a patch of his brother's T-shirt beneath the bookshelf, he reached down and lifted the bookcase up several inches, allowing Charlie to scramble out. He clutched his right arm to his stomach, his face drained of color. Don dropped the bookcase, grabbed his brother's arm, and began to shove him towards the door.

More shelves were wobbling now, several beginning to crash to the floor. Books and splinters of wood littered their path, making it more difficult to escape into the hall. Don's grip on Charlie's arm tightened, his mind focused on getting them to safety.

Plaster and insulation rained down on them from up above. Charlie stumbled several times, finding it difficult to keep his footing as the floor shook violently beneath their feet. He was sure that, had Don not been forcing him the entire way through the storage room, Charlie would never have found his way through the debris.

The bookcase nearest them chose that moment to fall, knocking sharply into Don's shoulder. Don cried out with pain, releasing Charlie and falling backwards to the ground. Charlie's momentum carried him forward a few more steps before he, too, fell over broken pieces of shelving.

Something large but lightweight fell on top of Don's head and landed in his lap. Don looked down in confusion, then up at the ceiling. What he saw filled him with horror.

The force of the earthquake was not just knocking them and the bookcases around; it was beginning to take its toll on the old math building. Larger pieces of the ceiling were beginning to break off as the rest sagged dangerously over top of them. One support beam broke free and swung down, landing in front of the door with a resounding clang. The sound caused Charlie to look at the obstacle to their only means of escape. Don, however, was still staring up at the ceiling.

Several more support beams were starting to loosen, ready to fall at any moment. Once they did, there was no doubt in Don's mind where they would land.

Right on Charlie.

Gritting his teeth at the sharp pain in his shoulder, Don fought through the piling debris to his feet. "Charlie! Charlie, _move_! _Now_!"

Charlie looked back at Don, still cradling his right arm. His face held confusion, but to his credit, he tried to rise.

He wasn't fast enough. Another violent shake jolted another beam free, and it fell on top of another loose beam. Dust and dirt rained down on Charlie's head.

Don's heart seized with terror, and he forced himself upright. He had only one thought now: get to Charlie.

With a sudden burst of adrenaline, Don pushed through the sea of books, wood pieces, and who knew what else. Charlie was nearly on his feet, clearly trying to make it back to help his brother. Unfortunately, that only put him directly in the beams' path, and they were about to shake loose at any moment.

"Charlie!" Don called again. "Get out of here! _Go_!"

Charlie didn't have time to move. The final support beam finally gave out and began to fall.

Don leaped over the last few feet and wrapped his arms around his brother, bending low to shield his little brother's body as the ceiling fell down on them. The force of the blows drove Don and Charlie to the ground, Don's body still covering Charlie's. Sharp, blinding pain exploded in Don's skull, and then he knew nothing more.


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three 

Alan Eppes moved cautiously back into his house, his eyes surveying the damage from the latest earthquake. It had struck so suddenly that he had barely had any time to escape to his front yard.

The quake had lasted all of a minute, a minute and a half, but it had seemed to go on forever. Living in California, Alan had grown accustomed to the constant tremors and quakes that struck, but every once in a great while he would encounter one that even unsettled him.

Pictures and mementos littered the floor. Several chairs were overturned, plants and dirt had found new homes on the ground, and glass shards glittered up at him from all over. Alan sighed heavily and moved further into the house.

He righted a few chairs and picked up some of the photos as he moved towards his phone. As was his habit, he dialed first Don's cell phone, then Charlie's. Receiving a busy signal, Alan settled the phone back in its cradle. He figured he'd give the phone company a couple hours to fix the lines before trying to contact his sons again. It would take at least that long to make a dent in the mess surrounding him.

* * *

Awareness descended on Charlie, and it didn't come kindly. Pain exploded in his head and down his body, and he moaned at the slightest movement he made. A heavy weight pressed down on him, pinning him to the floor. As consciousness returned, the pain ebbed, and Charlie was able to focus a little more clearly.

His right arm was twisted painfully below him. He didn't know if he had broken it or not when the bookcase had fallen on him, but at the moment it felt as though someone had torn it in half. Charlie tried to push himself off of the floor, but the weight on his back was too heavy. Charlie settled back down and tried to gather his wits about him.

Memories of the earthquake flooded back through him. The room was still now, though how long ago it had stopped, Charlie didn't know. The last thing he remembered was Don calling his name, grabbing him, then darkness.

Don!

Charlie gave a start and tried to struggle out from whatever was pinning him to the floor. Twisting his head around, he squinted through the dim yellow light and sucked in a sharp breath.

Don was laying on top of him, out cold. Charlie couldn't see him too clearly, but what he could see scared him. Half of Don's face was bathed in blood, the odor so thick in the air that it nearly gagged Charlie.

Shoving some books and other debris aside, Charlie carefully slid out from beneath his brother and turned him over. He cradled Don's head in his lap, blinking the dust out of his eyes so he could take a closer look at his brother.

An ugly gash had split open somewhere on Don's head. Blood had spilled freely, completely covering Don's head and half of his face. Charlie awkwardly tried to mop some of it up with his T-shirt, his heart pounding in his chest. With trembling fingers, he took Don's pulse and found it to be slow and faint.

"Don," Charlie whispered. "Don! Can you hear me? Don!"

Don didn't move; didn't stir. Charlie looked around for something he could use to help Don, but came up empty.

Taking a deep breath, Charlie tried to view his options. He couldn't move Don; even if both arms were uninjured, and he could risk moving his brother, Charlie doubted he would be able to carry Don's weight. The door to the storage room was now completely blocked by what used to be several support beams that Charlie now saw had fallen right on top of him and Don.

A feeling of hopelessness began to swell in Charlie's stomach, and he fought it back down. Don was depending on him. Don had protected him, and now it was his turn to protect Don. He couldn't let Don down.

Gently settling Don back onto the ground in what he hoped was a more comfortable position, Charlie stood on shaky legs and took a few tentative steps towards the door. The beams made it difficult, but Charlie was able to maneuver his way around them.

The closest he was able to get to the door was still several feet away. At this angle, Charlie could see that not only were support beams lying in the way, but a bookcase and several books as well. With another glance at his big brother's deathly still form, Charlie gritted his teeth against the pain and began to toss some of the lighter debris away from their only means of escape.

* * *

The sound of the phone ringing jolted Alan out of the recesses of his mind where he had retreated as he worked to straighten the house. Glancing at the clock, he was surprised to find that three hours had passed since the earthquake. Figuring that the caller was one of his boys, he crossed the living room and lifted the receiver. "Hello?"

The sound of his friend's voice quashed the hope that was rising in his heart. "Oh, hello Art. No, everything's fine over here. I'm just cleaning up. How about you? . . . . . . . No, I haven't seen the news . . . . . a seven, huh? . . . . . . No, I haven't heard from them, but now that the lines are up, I'll be trying them again. Yeah, you too, Art. Bye."

Alan hung up and hurriedly dialed Charlie's office number. Finding the signal busy, he tried Charlie's cell phone, but it had been switched off. Suppressing mild irritation at his youngest, Alan dialed Don's cell.

"The cellular customer you are trying to reach-."

Alan severed the connection sharply, frowning with concern. He wasn't terribly worried; his sons were grown and able to look after themselves. However, they knew it gave Alan peace of mind to let him know that they were all right.

Rather than resume his cleaning, Alan moved to the television and switched it to the local news station for some more information on the quake.

News crews had already descended on the city like vultures, videotaping any sign of chaos they could find. Other than reporting the scale of destruction, nothing else was of interest to Alan. Alan was about to shut the set off when the screen suddenly showed an image of CalSci. He froze, holding his breath.

" . . . _what you're seeing is the result of the earthquake that struck the greater Los Angeles area this afternoon," the reporter was saying. "Devastation struck all over the city, including here in this small, tight-knit community at CalSci. The force of the earthquake has shaken the foundation of a couple of the buildings loose, causing severe structural damage. So far, no casualties have been reported, and rescue teams are combing the scene looking for survivors. Stay tuned and we'll bring you more as it develops . . ."_

Alan felt as if his entire world had dropped away from him. The camera had swung away from the news reporter and was zooming in on a shot of the math building, where he knew his sons had last been seen.

Only now, the building looked as though half of it had collapsed in on itself.

"Oh my God . . "


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four 

Charlie swiped at the sweat dripping down his face, coming away with as much moisture as dust streaking his arm. Taking another deep breath, Charlie got another hold on the beam wedged between the door and a bookcase and gave a great heave. Pain shot up his injured arm, causing nausea to swell in his stomach, but he bit it back and tried to pull the beam away from the door. The beam shifted one, two inches, then settled more firmly in the doorway. Charlie let go abruptly, the force sending him back onto the ground. Gasping for breath, Charlie hugged his arm close and bent low, trying to get his heart rate and breathing back under control.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been working; his watch had been broken sometime during the earthquake. In that time, however, he had managed to clear most of the debris around the door, and had created an easier path through the room to Don to check on him. Don still slept on, oblivious to everything going on around him. The bleeding in his skull seemed to have slowed, but his lack of movement worried Charlie. He knew his brother needed medical attention badly, but he just couldn't find a way to get it to him.

A slight rumble began again, causing Charlie to freeze as fear gripped his heart. It lasted only for a couple seconds, but it was enough to remind Charlie of the danger he and Don still faced. Aftershocks were common after large earthquakes, and if another one occurred while they were still trapped down in the basement, there was no telling what might happen to them.

Charlie edged back to his brother and sat down beside him, his good hand gripping Don's. "Hey, Don, you gonna wake up, or are you gonna make me do all the work?"

No response.

Charlie's eyes searched his brother's face, looking for some sign of life. "Don, if you can hear me, please wake up. Please. I want to know if you're okay. Tell me you're okay."

Still no response.

Charlie continued, undeterred. "The door's still blocked, but I'm going to try and get through. It's really our only way out. That beam is in the way, but if I can find some way to jar it loose, then we'd be home free. It'd be a whole lot easier if you hadn't busted your cell phone, but then I probably should have carried mine with me. I-It probably would've broken too . . . anyway, I . . . I should get back to work. You need a doctor, and you're not going to get one if I just sit here all day. B-But anytime you feel like waking up and giving me a hand, feel free, okay?"

Wearily climbing back to his feet, Charlie stumbled back to the door. He had just started to outline a plan in his head when a harsh, choking sound filled his ears and flooded his veins with ice. Whirling around, Charlie ran to his brother's side.

Don was coughing violently, his body racked with spasms. Charlie's hands fluttered around Don, wanting to help soothe him but afraid of hurting him. Tears filled Charlie's eyes at the feeling of helplessness rising within him.

"Come on, Don," he urged, his voice shaky. "It's okay, I'm here. I'm gonna take care of you. I won't let anything happen to you."

The coughing finally subsided, and Don's eyelids began to flutter. Hope rose and lodged somewhere in Charlie's throat. He gripped his brother's hand tightly. "Don? Don, wake up!"

Don's eyes opened to slits, and he squinted at Charlie in confusion. "Ch . . . . Charlie?" he rasped weakly.

Charlie's face broke into a brilliant grin through tears of relief shining in his eyes. "Yeah, Donnie, I'm here."

"What . . . . happened . . .?"

"There was an earthquake, remember?" Charlie asked. "We're stuck in the basement of my building, but help is coming. You gotta stay with me, okay Donnie? Stay with me."

"Head . . . hurts . . ."

"I-I know," Charlie whispered, fighting to keep his fear from showing. "But you're gonna be okay. I promise."

Don studied Charlie's face closely for another moment, then his eyes slid shut. Charlie was immediately alarmed.

"Don?" he asked. "Donnie, no, stay awake. Donnie, open your eyes. You can't go to sleep, you have to stay awake! Donnie!"

It was no use. Don had slipped back under the currents of sleep once more, leaving Charlie feeling more alone than ever. Bowing his head, Charlie allowed the tears to come.

* * *

Alan pushed through the slowly growing crowd milling around CalSci, his eyes sweeping from face to face. He barely remembered driving to the campus, his mind swirling with the horrible thought that his sons were trapped, hurt . . . or worse. He prayed that they had just been too caught up in the rescue efforts to remember to call, but with each moment that passed the fear grew.

A fireman intercepted Alan before he could get any nearer to the math building. "Sir, I'm sorry, but no one except rescue personnel beyond this point."

"You don't understand," Alan told him. "My son works in that building. Both him and his brother were in there when the earthquake hit, and I can't get a hold of them."

The fireman's face showed sympathy, but he remained firm. "I'm sorry sir, but I can't let you go. I promise, rescue teams are working on this as we speak. We'll find them."

"But-," Alan protested.

"Kevin!" the fireman called behind him. A second fireman approached the two, looking quizzically from one man to the other. "Please escort this gentleman to where the recovered victims are being taken. His sons are missing and may be among them."

Kevin nodded and turned to Alan. "Sir? If you'll come with me?"

Alan looked at the building, the longing clear on his face, before finally nodding. He had taken a couple steps when the ground began to shake again. Alan stumbled, feeling Kevin grab onto his arm to steady him.

The aftershock lasted longer than the one before it, and had struck with slightly more force. Alan took in the rescue crews drawing back cautiously from the building, then approach it again with some trepidation. He felt sick at heart, and turned to Kevin.

"Please, let me work with the crews," he pleaded. "I worked as a city planner, I could be of some help to you."

Kevin frowned. "Sir-."

"Please," Alan repeated, searching Kevin's face earnestly. "My boys are all I have, and I need to know they're okay. _Please_."

Kevin stared at him for a long time, thinking about Alan's request. Finally, he nodded.

"All right," he agreed. "I'll let you help, but you stick with me. Do what I say, when I say, and we won't have a problem."

Alan felt gratitude sweep through him, and let it show on his face. "Thank you," he said gratefully.

Kevin smiled faintly. "Let's get you suited up. Come with me."

* * *

Charlie cautiously lifted his head as the last tremor faded, the dust still settling around them. Several more things had shifted and fallen loose; namely, another support beam just feet from him and Don. As soon as the tremor had struck, Charlie had dove over his brother, trying to protect Don from anything else that might fall on the hapless agent. Fortunately, nothing had come their way, but he didn't know how long their luck would hold.

Coughing at the thick dust swirling in the air, Charlie stood and edged cautiously to the door. What he found filled him with dismay.

The path he had originally cleared was once again strewn with plaster and pieces from the ceiling. Any hope Charlie had of clearing the way was now crushed.

Tears of frustration rose in his eyes as desperation filled him. How would he find help for Don now? Don needed him . . . and he couldn't help him.

The realization shook Charlie to the core. He stared dumbly at the door, his eyes not really seeing. There was nothing he could do. Nothing, except sit and watch as Don slipped away from him.

An eerie groan from up above drew Charlie's eyes. The very sound turned his insides ice cold.

The ceiling was sagging heavily over them, the remaining support beams barely holding the weight. The groaning he had heard was the protest from the beams still in place. For now, they were holding, but if another tremor struck while they were still trapped, Charlie was certain that they would give.

A fresh wave of panic swept through Charlie, and he began to toss smaller pieces of debris into a pile in the corner of the storage room. He ignored the sharp bursts of pain shooting up his injured arm, choosing instead to work even harder. He couldn't give up. He had to protect Don. He had to protect his brother.

Minutes stretched into hours; how much, Charlie didn't know. The room was eerily silent, with only the occasional moan from the ceiling above keeping Charlie company. Once the smaller pieces of debris had been cleared away, Charlie dragged sections of broken support beams to the door and positioned them on top of the one beam lodged against the door. As an afterthought, he propped larger pieces of plaster and insulation on the floor around the niche he had created. Once finished, Charlie turned and went to Don's side.

Don hadn't revived again, worrying Charlie to no end. His pulse had steadied a little, and the bleeding had slowed some, but Charlie was concerned about possible internal injuries. He hated the idea of moving his big brother, but Don would be safer in the makeshift niche than out in the open. Taking a deep breath, Charlie hooked his hands underneath Don's arms and began to drag him closer to the door.

The going was slow, as Don's dead weight and Charlie's own injury hampered the young man's efforts. Several times, Charlie had to stop and rest, trying to get the nausea in his stomach to settle once more.

As Charlie was finally settling Don on the floor of the niche, Don moaned lightly and turned his head to the side. "Charlie?"

Charlie's heart leapt into his throat. "Don? Don, how do you feel?"

Don's eyes opened slightly. "Like a building fell on me."

Charlie smiled, giddy with relief. "Close enough. Can you stay awake?"

"I'll try." Don grunted as he tried to shift his body, only to have Charlie's steadying hand push him back to the floor. "Are we still in the storage room?"

Charlie nodded. "I can't move the beam out of the way. We're going to have to wait here until the rescue crews can come dig us out."

Don let out a soft grunt of acknowledgement. Charlie settled down beside him, pulling Don into his lap to make him more comfortable. Don blinked up at Charlie, his eyes not quite focused.

"If you want me to stay awake, Buddy, you're gonna have to talk to me," he mumbled.

Charlie frowned at his brother. "Okay . . . how about that equation I was telling you about?"

Don let out a chuff of laughter that turned into a cough. "I thought you wanted me to stay awake."

Charlie, despite himself, grinned ruefully. "Touché. What do you want me to talk about?"

Don thought for a minute. "Tell me something from when I was at the Academy or something. Something you haven't told me about what you did while you were at school."

Charlie sighed, thinking back over the years. "I don't think that'll keep you awake, either."

Don looked up at him. "There must be _something_ you can tell me."

Charlie thought for several long moments. Finally, a slow smile blossomed on his face. "Actually, there is one thing . . ."

"Fire away," Don told him, closing his eyes. He allowed himself to relax, focusing on the soft, gentle tones of his little brother's voice as Charlie launched into a story about a class and some pranks against an unpopular professor.


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five 

"Over here!"

Alan turned and ran towards the shouting voice, beating nearly everyone to the scene. Kevin caught up to him quickly, sparing Alan a warning look before joining his coworker in digging through the rubble blocking a familiar office.

Kevin reached inside the office and grasped the arm of a very filthy, very battered arm and helped the person out of the ruins of what had once been an orderly chaotic office. Alan suppressed a gasp of recognition. "Larry? Are you all right?"

Larry's head shot up in surprise. "Mr. Eppes?" he asked, incredulous.

"Sir, are you hurt?" Kevin demanded.

Larry barely glanced at Kevin, his shocked face still staring at Alan. "I-I'm fine. Just couldn't get out . . . Mr. Eppes, what are you doing here?"

"Have you seen Charlie and Don?" Alan demanded. "No one's heard from them since the quake."

He took Larry by his other arm as Kevin continued to help the twitchy professor out of the math building. Larry was shaking his head and frowning at his feet, trying to process what was going on.

"Sure, I saw Charles just before the quake," Larry told Alan. "He was working in his office on some new thing for Don. They aren't there?"

"It was the first place we looked," Alan told him, walking with him into the bright sunshine. An ambulance stood waiting for them in the parking lot. "There was no sign of either of them."

Larry raised a hand to his head. "I think I remember them heading for the storage room . . .at least, I heard them talking in the hall, and that was the direction they were headed."

"Where?" Alan asked anxiously.

Larry glanced back at the math building. "In the basement . . oh dear . . ."

Alan paled at the statement. Rescue crew hadn't tried to search the basement level, since no offices or classrooms were down there. A lot of debris had fallen through the first floor, and several floors in the classes had collapsed. If Charlie and Don were down there . . .

He turned and ran back into the building, leaving his son's bewildered friend behind. He ran up to the first fireman he could find.

"We have to search the basement level," he announced, winded. "There are people trapped down there."

The fireman gave a start. "What? How do you know that?"

"We don't have time for this!" Alan snapped. "We need to get down there and get them out. Are you going to help me or not?"

"Look, even if we wanted to, it would still take a very long time to break through all the rubble down below," the fireman told Alan. "If we aren't careful, we could cause a complete collapse and kill whoever is down there."

"We can't just leave them down there!" Alan cried.

"We won't," the fireman assured him. "It'll take some time, but if someone's down there, we'll find them."

Alan nodded and forced himself to relax, but his heart thundered in his chest. He had a feeling that he wouldn't be able to relax until he saw both of his boys in front of him, safe and sound.

* * *

"Don? Don, you promised you'd stay awake!"

Don lifted heavy eyelids. "I'm awake. I was listening to everything you were saying."

Charlie gave him a doubtful look. "Oh yeah? What did I just say?"

"How lucky you are to have a great brother like me," Don replied without skipping a beat.

Charlie wasn't amused. "Don, you have to stay awake. I know it's hard, but you're hurt. You can't sleep." He wanted to voice his deeper concerns for his brother's condition, but Don had enough to worry about. "Why don't you tell me something for a change?"

"Like?" Don prompted.

"Like some of your friends in Albuquerque," Charlie suggested. "Did you date anyone else other than Kim? Where did you and Kim meet? Anything. I mean, I really don't know anything about what you did while you were there."

Don opened his eyes a little wider and looked up at his brother. "Sure you do, Charlie. I worked, I hung out with some people, I slept, and I worked some more."

Charlie rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I can see where that whole Kim thing fits in nicely. I told you something, now it's your turn."

Don sighed. "All right," he relented. "How about a story from when I went to the academy. Did you know that I knew Terry back then?"

"No," Charlie answered, his interest piqued.

Don opened his mouth to share the promised story when the ground beneath them began to tremble again. It lasted for only a minute, but the ceiling overhead sagged further. The loud groaning from above caused Don to lift his head out of Charlie's lap and look around. "What . . "

"Don, don't move," Charlie ordered softly, his skin ashen. "Your head . . ."

"What was that sound?" Don demanded.

"Nothing," Charlie lied. "I think it might be the crews looking for us. You shouldn't move; you might hurt yourself."

Don was unconvinced, but lacked the energy to argue with Charlie. He settled his head back down on Charlie's lap and sighed. "Where was I?"

"You and Terry at the academy," Charlie supplied helpfully.

Don let out a soft laugh. "This is a good one. It's how Terry and I met. You see, we had this behavior analysis class together, and on the first day . . ."

* * *

"Don't move!"

Alan and the rest of the crew froze in place as the ground rumbled ominously. Once it subsided, they looked around at one another for some sign of how to proceed.

"This is ridiculous," one man spoke up. "We have no proof there's anyone down here! We're putting ourselves in unnecessary danger."

Alan felt a rush of heat flood his cheeks. "No one's making you stay here!" he barked. "If you're so scared, then go on. We don't need you. We'll find them ourselves."

"All right, calm down," Kevin barked before the man could respond. "We're not going to get anything done if we bicker. Scott, Erin, move out to the other end of the hallway. See if there's a clear path to the basement over there. Watch your step."

The man who had snapped and another woman obeyed the order. Alan moved closer to Kevin, his eyes scanning the floor carefully. He had only been to Charlie's office a couple times, but the debris from the earthquake made it look completely unrecognizable.

"Where was the doorway?" Kevin asked Alan, jarring Alan out of his thoughts.

Alan frowned, then moved cautiously down the hall. "I think it was over here. Behind this mess. Help me move some of this."

Together, the two men carefully lifted the sections of wall and pieces of what must have once been part of the ceiling to the side. Sure enough, the door to the basement was hidden behind it. The door itself was hanging on one hinge, and the stairs leading down looked to be clear. Without waiting for anyone, Alan immediately started down. His sons were there, he could just feel it . . .

* * *

Charlie leaned his head back against the door, fighting back a fresh wave of tears. Don had trailed off in the middle of his story, giving in to the encroaching darkness despite his brother's pleas to remain awake. The ceiling overhead continued to shift restlessly, this time with more frequency than before. Charlie wondered if anyone knew that they were missing, if anyone was even looking for him. He just told Don that rescue crews were on their way to convince him to hang in there, but the truth was that Charlie had no idea. He prayed that his exaggerations to Don hadn't been far from the truth.

Another loud groan echoed in the room, drawing Charlie's eyes skyward. He felt something akin to a lead weight drop into the pit of his stomach.

The final support beam was actually bending under the weight, losing the fight against the pressure straining against it. As if in slow motion, Charlie watched as the beam finally gave way, swinging to the ground where he and Don had woken up from after the first quake. Almost immediately, more sections of the ceiling began to rain down in earnest. With it came furniture from the classroom directly above them, the crashing echoing loudly in Charlie's ears. Biting back a cry of surprise, Charlie bent low over Don's body, trying his best to shield his brother from the debris that was now flying through the room. Objects pinged and bounced off of the beams they used as a shelter, but they held.

Charlie jerked with each crash, his breaths coming in sharp gasps. He hugged Don tightly, praying that they would make it through all right. That someone would find them soon, before they died down there, forgotten and all alone.

"Charlie!"

Charlie lifted his head, hardly daring to hope that he had heard correctly. He waited, straining his ears over the sounds of the rest of the building crashing down around them.

"Charlie? Don?"

It was their father . . . but what was he doing there? Deciding not to look a gift horse in the mouth, Charlie twisted his head to face the door. "Dad! Dad, we're in here! Help!"

There was no response for a long, agonizing moment, and Charlie started to think he had imagined his father's voice. He held his breath in anticipation, dimly aware that the crashing around them had lessened.

"Charlie?" It was definitely Alan's voice, and he sounded closer. "Charlie, speak to me, son!"

"Dad, we're stuck in here!" Charlie yelled as loudly as he could. Tears of relief stung his eyes. "Don's hurt, he needs a doctor! You've got to get him out of here!"

"We're going to get you both out of there!" Alan promised. He sounded as though he were right outside the door. "Can you open the door?"

"No!" Charlie yelled back, his voice cracking through his barely contained tears. "The beams are lodged right against it! You've got to find another way!"

There was a commotion on the other side of the door before Alan spoke again. "Charlie? You sound like you're right next to the door. Are you? Is Don with you?"

"Yes!" Charlie replied.

"We're going to knock a hole in the wall a few feet away from the door," Alan told him. "Sit tight, we'll be in there in a few seconds."

Charlie hugged Don tightly, his eyes fixed on the wall in the vicinity that Alan had indicated. He heard the sounds of powerful thuds coming from the hallway, causing the wall to tremble.

It took Charlie a couple moments to realize that the trembling wasn't isolated to the wall. Another tremor had started up, and it looked like it would be nearly as big as the first.

The pounding didn't stop. As Charlie held onto Don, a small hole began to appear in the wall. It grew larger with just a few more strikes, and a fireman was able to squeeze into the room. Charlie looked up at him as he approached.

"Come on!" he shouted, stooping down and taking Don from his arms. "We have to go! The whole building could come down on us!"

He turned and began to carry Don back to the hole. Charlie scrambled to his feet, tripping over freshly fallen debris, and followed the man through the hole. Hands immediately snagged him and pulled him through the rest of the way, and Charlie found himself looking into his father's relieved face.

"Let's go!" Alan ordered, propelling Charlie ahead of him and towards the stairs.

It wasn't easy going, maneuvering through rubble and over the shaking ground, but with Alan's help, Charlie managed to make it out into the sunshine as the trembling finally died away. He tried to stop and take a breath of fresh air, but Alan was pushing him onward, towards the ambulance.

Feeling completely drained, Charlie offered no resistance as he was pushed through the crowd of rescue teams and survivors. Alan finally released him beside the ambulance and turned his attention to Don, who was being examined by two paramedics.

"What's wrong?" Alan demanded.

"Looks like a serious head wound," one medic answered. "We won't know more until we take him to the hospital. You coming?"

"Yes," Alan stated. "And so is my other son. You need to take a look at him too." He turned back to Charlie and received a sharp jolt of shock and fear as Charlie's legs gave out. He caught the young man before he reached the ground, wrapping his arms tightly around Charlie in a fierce hug.

The other medic was at Charlie's side in an instant. "Fred! Toss me a splint! This one's got a broken arm!" Accepting the splint from his partner, the medic affixed it to Charlie's arm and looked up at Alan. "We'll take them both in. Let's go."

Together, Alan and the medic loaded Charlie into the ambulance beside his brother. Charlie didn't say a word, staring mutely at Don's still form. Once Alan had climbed in beside Charlie, the doors were shut and they were off.


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six 

Don sighed as consciousness returned to him, and he opened his eyes. He knew almost instantly that he was no longer in the basement of Charlie's building. A quick glance at his surroundings told him that he was in the hospital.

"Don?"

Alan hurried into the room, carrying a cup of coffee. Setting the cup on the nearby nightstand, he leaned over his eldest and gently brushed a hand through Don's hair. "Donnie, how are you feeling?"

"A lot better than before," Don answered truthfully. "How long has it been?"

"Near as we can figure, you were stuck in that room for nearly six hours," Alan told him. "You dislocated your shoulder and ended up with a serious concussion. We pulled the two of you out of there about four hours ago."

Don suddenly bolted upright in bed, startling his father. "Charlie! Where is he? Is he okay? Is he hurt?"

Alan gently eased Don back into bed. "Your brother is just fine. See? He's right over here." He moved off to the side and pointed at a bed to Don's left. Lying there was Charlie, fast asleep. A cast was wrapped securely around his right arm, and there were a couple bruises on his face, but other than that, he looked all right.

"What happened?" Don asked. "All I remember is Charlie telling me that rescue crews were on their way. He tried to keep me awake, but I just couldn't."

Alan smiled softly and settled in a chair between his sons' beds. "You'll have to forgive my lack of information. I got what I could out of him before the doctor gave him his sedative. From what I understand, Charlie tried to clear a path out of the storage room, but couldn't. Instead, he decided to create a little shelter out of the debris to protect the two of you until we came to find you."

"Wait . . . you mean . . . he didn't call for help?" Don asked, confused.

"How could he?" Alan countered. "His cell phone was in his office, and yours was destroyed."

Don stared up at the ceiling thoughtfully. "Well, it could have been worse, I suppose. We're lucky that the whole damn ceiling didn't collapse on us."

Alan looked at him strangely, and Don wondered if he had suddenly grown two heads. "Donnie . . . it did." At Don's shocked expression, he hurried to add, "I thought you knew. Charlie certainly did . . . it was the reason he made that shelter. It caved in on you just as we were trying to pull you out."

Don was stunned. He was suddenly struck with the memory of a loud metallic groan and realized what it was. "Then why . . . why would he keep that from me?"

Alan shrugged. "I suppose he figured that since there was nothing you could do about it, there was no reason to worry you with it." He leaned forward. "Enough talking. You need your rest. Go on back to sleep."

Don tried, but he felt as though he had been sleeping for days. He lay awake, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. After several hours, he managed to shoo his father home for a good meal and some sleep. After Alan had gone, Don's eyes had turned to study Charlie as his little brother slept.

It was nearly eight o'clock at night when Charlie finally began to stir. Pushing himself up into a sitting position, Don slid out of bed and sank into the chair near Charlie's bed and gripped his brother's fingers that were peeking out of his cast. "Charlie?"

Charlie's eyes fluttered open, and he frowned in confusion at his brother. "Don?"

Don grinned. "Yeah, Buddy, it's me. How're you feeling?"

Charlie's eyes opened wider, and he sat up in bed. "How am _I_ feeling? How are _you_ feeling? I'm not the one who got his head cracked open."

"I'm fine," Don assured him. "They've got me on the good stuff."

Charlie nodded at that, then looked down at his lap. "I was really worried about you."

Don squeezed the fingers that he held. "Thanks to you, I'll be just fine. I just wish I had been able to help you more down there."

Charlie's expression revealed bewilderment. "Help me _more_? Don, you saved my life, and nearly at the cost of your own! How much more help could you possibly have given me?"

"A lot, from what I understand," Don replied cryptically. "Are you gonna tell me everything that happened down there, or am I going to have to work it out of you?"

"You were there," Charlie pointed out, deliberately misunderstanding him. "You know what happened."

"You know what I mean," Don stated.

Charlie looked away, his fingers twitching in Don's grasp. "I'm glad we got out okay. For awhile there . . ."

Don saw remnants of fear flicker across Charlie's face. "Hey," he said softly. "We're okay, thanks to you."

Charlie scoffed. "Thanks to me? I didn't do anything. You saved my life down there. I couldn't even keep you awake to help you."

"Is that what you think?" Don asked, incredulous. "Charlie . . . look at me, Buddy." Once he had Charlie's eyes, he continued. "Sure, I saved your life, but you saved mine. Dad told me that the ceiling caved in on us, and that we would have died if you hadn't pulled us into that little shelter you made. How can you say you did nothing to help me?"

Charlie's eyes searched Don's face. "I don't know . . . I guess I thought I should have been able to find a way out of that storage room. You needed a doctor, and I couldn't even get out of that room to get one."

Don shook his head. "Charlie, you're being too hard on yourself. You saved my life. You kept me alive, and you did all that work even though you had a broken arm. So thank you, Buddy. For saving my life."

Charlie stared at Don for a moment before a slow smile blossomed on his face. "Yeah, well . . ." He ducked his head bashfully.

Don reached up and playfully ruffled Charlie's hair. "Well, you're stuck with me now, Buddy."

"I can think of worse things," Charlie replied softly.

A nurse chose to enter the room at that moment, pausing in the doorway and staring at the scene before her. A frown of displeasure marred her wrinkled face, and she folded her arms. "Agent Eppes, I don't believe you were given permission to leave your bed. Come on now, in you get."

Don winked at Charlie and returned to his bed as the nurse checked the monitors surrounding his bed. Charlie watched as his older brother smiled beatifically at the nurse, noting his slow movements that were growing steadier with each passing moment. The tight fist that had clenched around his heart down in the basement storage room finally began to ease as he began to accept that Don was all right.

Tossing a comment at the nurse that Charlie missed, Don glanced at his brother and smirked again. Charlie returned the smile and took a deep breath.

They were okay.

The End


End file.
